


Endless War

by Slenderman



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Bloodplay, Dark, Double Penetration, Fear, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, M/M, Multi, Politics, Prostitution, Real names used, Threesome - M/M/M, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, gangrape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-31
Updated: 2012-06-19
Packaged: 2017-11-06 10:31:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/417843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slenderman/pseuds/Slenderman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Devastated by a seemingly endless war, Alfred visits the home of Ivan, pleading for the Russian's help. But, what will he be asked for in return? Mostly RussiaxAmerica, but definitely lots of other US pairings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Pairing(s): RussiaxAmerica, but America will probably end up paired with every nation at least once.  
> Story type: Smut / Porn with Plot  
> Etc: This is basically just an explanation of what's happened, no smut in this chapter, just a bunch of boring facts.  
> If you'd like to skip this chapter, here's the TL;DR version-  
> War is declared on America, but without any allies to back him up, he's finding himself on the losing edge. France has seized control of Canada and Spain Mexico, with the control on these bordering nations, they're able to cut off all of America's exports and imports.  
> Russia, on the other hand, is booming after a vast amount of oil is discovered on the land.  
> America has to swallow his pride and ask Russia for help.

His money; worthless.  
His people; starving.  
His power; gone.  
His country; dying.

America had collapsed on itself, the economy- which seemed to have been doing so well, swelling with so much potential, so much power-it completely deflated, bringing the whole nation down with it. This was a collapse, one of which had never been seen by the young country before. Not after it had gone to war with itself, not after the great depression in the thirties, nor the collapse in the early two thousands, after Alfred had gotten himself lost in the Middle East.

No.  
This was worse.  
Much, much worse.

It seemed to have swept over the North American countries in a powerful blow. A chain of wars, pulling away America's bordering allies and slowly applying pressure, squeezing together the exports, then imports, attempting to force that loud-mouth to give up control.  
But he was as stubborn as ever.  
That bastard just wouldn't give up.

It started off seemingly harmless. America had heard faint rumors of weapons being made in Spain, so, in order to keep his eye on the activity, he began to pile troops into the region who were ordered to detain any suspicious characters. Already breaching a contract made in '88 (which had been regularly renewed every eight years) and an incident where they seized several small children whom had been labeled as 'possible suspects', Spain threatened war if the United States didn't pull from his territory.

The threat just sparked America to push forward.

With that, war was declared upon the nation.

But the war escalated – it became more than a breach of contract, an issue of humanity, no, they were going all out. Now, this was a war for land, this was old wounds reopening from the revolutionary war, this was them taking back what they claimed as 'theirs'.

Alfred had attempted to get support from his allies and the United Nations, but after they had warned him several times beforehand to pull out- and were, of course, ignored – they refused to back the man, forcing him to fight this on his own.

Spain, on the other hand, easily got allies on his side – and even managed to dab a European country – after some negotiation and a promise of full control over Canada (including Alaska), France joined the fight. The battle slowly escalated into a World War.

First Mexico was seized- and with it, Hawaii was taken as well.

49 states of America.

France soon took control of Canada, taking along with it Alaska.

48 states of America.

Spain pushed forward, breaking the borders of the United States, until it reclaimed Texas.

47 states of America.

They blocked off the goods coming into America, the goods coming out of America. They isolated the country and slowly began to squeeze tighter, constricting it in a vice. His power, his wealth, his everything, it was leaving America – and for the first time, the country was completely venerable. No matter what they did, no matter what they tried, it seemed helpless.

Every president had passed through that office.  
Every race, every gender, every background, every religion, every sexuality.  
But none of them were able to bring America out of this depression, give back the power it possessed for so long. Slowly, realization was beginning to dawn on them. And that was, for once, they really couldn't do this on their own.  
They needed help, they needed someone who held as much power as America did before this terrible, endless war.

And, as the world busied themselves with the war, pulling stocks, cutting ties, building new bonds, a new power rose from the ashes of America's fallen reign. One that completely took the world by surprise.

The country had always been known for its supply of natural resources of oil and minerals, but the well of churning black liquid that had been hiding under their feet in a quantity so large that the Middle East couldn't hold so much as a candle to it, had sky rocketed the economy. And with this inflation of money and growth, the country began to build up. Schools became better, jobs more accessible, it's power stronger than had been seen in years. Nations were desperate to join this country, to strengthen their ties.

To become one with Russia.

oOo

A knock to the wooden door caught Ivan's attention and he lowered the book he had been reading onto his lap. There was another, then another, then another, the person waiting outside the door seeming extremely impatient. The nation's lips quirked into a gentle smile – nobody acted this way towards him. They respected and feared him too much to try and pester the man. Well, nobody but-

"Здравствуйте, Амеriка." He pleasantly greeted the shivering nation outside.


	2. Agreement

Wind whipped around the young nation, flipping his hair out of his face and fogging his glasses up. His bomber jacket scarecely protected him against the biting wind, the cold easily slipping through the barely patched holes that littered the coat. His eyes burned and his lungs hurt, one hand pressed to his mouth and nose, while the other pounded furiously against the door.

Mid-strike it opened and Alfred halted his swing, staring at Russia.

The nation looked better than ever- bigger, stronger, healthier.  
Completely contrasting America.

"Zdravstvujte." Ivan greeted Alfred with a slight tilt of his head. The large scarf wrapped around his neck did a poor job at concealing the pleasant smile Russia gave in response to seeing the younger nation's pitiful appearance.

Alfred's lips drew into a deep frown, but he bit back any insults, instead replying with a lame, "pleevyet."

Ivan's smile grew at the butchering of his language, but he didn't correct the other. "What is occasion for visit, comrade?" He questioned, studying the shivering nation. He made no attempt to open the door and allow the other in, just continued to happily stare at the freezing man.

"F-Fuck, dude, just, just, let me in- I'll tell you about it when I-I'm not f—fuckin- freezin my fuckin balls off." America's arms were wrapped tightly around his body and the lower half of his face was buried inside his jacket. His eyes narrowed from behind the fogged glasses and he coughed lightly.

"Oh no, is not Russian custom to let in without knowledge-" The grin was beginning to slowly spread on Ivan's pale lips, while, despite the cold, America's cheeks flared up in anger – the guy was fucking with him!  
"-Now, what is problem?"

His breath came out in short, sudden puffs, before being dragged off by the wind. "…I want- I mean, my boss-" He corrected himself immediately. He didn't want to come here to begin with, nor did he want Russia to think this was at all a willing trip. He swallowed, adams apple bobbing in his throat, and forced himself to stop chattering. "-Wants to offer a…A plea of sorts."

A gentle chortle left Russia at the statement and his head slowly began to nod. "Ah… You want help, yes?" Although the belittling laughter continued, the door opened and Ivan stepped back, allowing room for the American to enter.

Glaring, Alfred entered the house, brushing past Ivan none-too-gently, and standing in the middle of the room. The house – well, mansion it could now be called, was better than even Alfred had during his peak. Intricate patterns ran along the walls, expensive furniture was placed along the floor and beautiful paintings hung up. But, even with all this, the place was still creepy, still that unsettling little apartment that the man once occupied.

Slowly, he pulled his gaze from his surroundings and focused them instead on the patient man standing next to the door. He surveyed him a moment, before letting out a small sigh and fishing a paper out of his coat. The Russian's eyes followed his movements, but he stayed silent, instead waiting for what Alfred had to say.

"This is…The Boss wanted to make a deal…a, uh, negotiation – it's all on here. Short term benefits, long term benefits, how you will be repaid and how long it will last." He stepped towards Ivan, body still shivering from the cold and held out the parchment between pale, trembling fingers. Although his body shook weakly, his chin stayed up, his chest puffed out and his head was held high.  
No matter how damaged he was, he was still America after all.

Ivan finally moved, stepping forward and accepting the paper and opening it up. Pale violet eyes scanned over the paper and, without looking up, he turned on his heel, starting up a flight of stairs.  
"Follow."

Alfred's lips drew into a slow frown, but he obediently followed after the other, the tremors shooting up and down his body slowly beginning to ebb in their intensity as the warmth of the house began to take effect.

Ivan led the other into a room with the door already open. A large desk in the middle and important books stacked up inside shelves easily gave off the impression that this was an important business room.

"Close door."

Ivan sat down at the table, setting the paper down on the desk and watching as Alfred feebly shut the door with a small click.

"Sit."

The frown on Alfred's lips seemed to deepen considerably, but he obeyed and took a seat on an expensive, but uncomfortable chair, across from the table. A clock mounted up on the wall clicked loudly, each spring of the second hand sounding like a burst of thunder in the silent room. Awkwardly, the teen began to slide down in the chair, fiddling with his gloves. A large hole occupied the palm of his left hand and two of his fingers poked out of the tips of the fingers on the right.

"I will not benefit from broken country."

And with that, Ivan lifted the paper and promptly tore it in half. Alfred's eyes widened from behind his glasses and he stood up, wincing, as if the tearing of the paper hurt him as well. "Yeah, it wont help just yet, but think of all the resources! If you get us on our feet, you'll have access to all sorts of food, our weapons, plus, you can station your troops in there and trading markets – it's in a perfect location for importing and exporting! Please! We've gone to everyone! Just, we need just a small boost, we'll repay you once we've gotten back to normal!"

Ivan's chortle returned and he reclined in his seat, fingers lacing and resting on his stomach. "I will help, only under one condition…"

A look of hesitant hope spread across Alfred's face and he leaned forward, blue eyes wide and lips parted. For once, he said nothing, just letting the other speak his mind – hoping this 'one condition' would have favorable benefits.

"I get full control of country now." Ivan replied with a smile that slowly began to spread into something more devious. Alfred shot up, looking ready to object, but Ivan cut him off, continuing. "-I control country, I control attack, I control export, import, I control who goes in country and who goes out. But, I will fuel you with all money you need, all weapons, I will help you win war – and once you win war, I will completely release control. I will ask for no more, you will have complete independence, you will not owe any debt."

The younger nation's lips moved, opening then closing, attempting to formulate words. His heart pound in his chest and his lips were slowly beginning to spread into a grin.

"-And, no other country will know – they will think we just have alliance, you will still be seen as independent country throughout whole thing."

That was it – America had hit the deal of a life time. Did Russia not realize what he was missing out on? Yeah, he'd get bossed around a bit, but he was guaranteed to win, to have his freedom – Ivan was a fucking dumbass- it was plain to anyone with half a brain that America was on the winning end of this agreement.

"We have deal?" Ivan questioned pleasantly, holding out a hand for the other to take. Alfred didn't hesitate, immediately reaching over and seizing the other's hand, shaking three times. "Deal, I'll do anything you want, man."

As soon as the words left his mouth, the grip on Alfred's hand tightened and Russia stood up, staring at him with a sinister smile.

"Good, then we will become one."


	3. Becoming one

Ivan's cold, steely fingers tightened around the American's hand, cutting circulation off, first turning it an unsightly shade of purple, before it lost all color, turning into the pale clammy hand you'd find on a drowning victim.

"Become…One…" Alfred repeated, face draining of color and body tensing up.

"And if America goes back on treaty, then Russia and the United Nations will have to declare war as well." Ivan said happily, starting to pull the other out of the room, grip never slacking and voice calm, as if he were talking about the weather. Alfred felt numb, what had he gotten himself into? This whole deal seemed so perfect- a happy ending to a miserable story. But Ivan had tricked him…That fucking bastard!

The worst part about all of this, was that he could do nothing.

The deal was sealed, he couldn't go back on it – and if he tried to decline, then him losing the war would become almost inevitable.

Ivan stopped at a closed door and he turned towards the American, studying him curiously. "This will not feel good." The door was shoved open and Alfred was shoved in, the Russian stepping in after him. He had been half-expecting to see a dungeon, but instead it was just a fairly ordinary bedroom on the other side of the door. Stumbling clumsily, the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed and he dropped onto the mattress, eyes wide.

Ivan slowly began to unbutton his cloak, allowing it to slide to the ground in a small heap, his large scarf discarded lazily next to it.  
"Strip."

The younger nation stared at him with wide eyes, before shaking his head quickly. "What the hell- this wasn't part of the agreement, I'm fucking leaving!" He began to stand, but Russia began towards the bed, steel-toed boots creating heavy thuds against the floor. The silver-haired man leaned down, thumb running along the jaw, feeling the muscles clench under the pad of his finger.

"Would you rather me get the pipe?" He asked cheerfully, leaning down to give the corner of the man's lip a gentle kiss. "We will become one – whether America is awake for it or not." He pulled back, staring down at the teenage nation, who's body was shaking much more violently than when he was out in the cold.  
"Now. Strip."

Slowly, but obediently, Alfred began to work off his torn bomber jacket, allowing it to drop to the bed, before unbuttoning his shirt. Once satisfied that Alfred was done protesting, Ivan began to strip as well, pulling his shirt off his head and sliding out of his boots. Ivan, now completely naked, observed the nearly nude Alfred. His boxers were tacky, looking like a cut up American Flag. Why did he still wear that? Surely he couldn't have still been proud of his country – not after all of this.

Alfred observed the Russian's smile, as Ivan slowly began towards the bed. In response, the teen scoot away, distancing himself as far away from the older nation as he could. But, before he could get too far away, his ankle was pulled into a strong grip and he was tugged backwards. "Are you ready America?"

The blonde stared up at him with a glare, before letting out a guttural noise and spitting on his face. "Go to hell."

Ivan's smile didn't falter. "In due time, milaya moya…" Grabbing a fistful of blonde hair, he forced the other onto his stomach and pulled his hips up. Using one hand to keep the other's hands pinned, he used the other to guide himself against the hole. It was tight, looking like a small pink flower. He gave a small nudge, but it didn't open. Even without lube, someone who'd already lost their virginity would have opened up slightly. But no, he didn't move. "Oh…You are Virgin?"

That infamous chortle he had returned and he lowered his throbbing cock, raising his fingers to his hand. "Ah, no time for lube, spit will do, yes?" He didn't expect an answer, mostly just talking to himself. He took three fingers into his mouth, thoroughly coating them with saliva. The blonde under him squirmed and kicked and screamed profanities, but, for the most part, Ivan ignored him.

"It has been while since I had virgin." He mumbled thoughtfully, beginning to ease his fingers one at a time. The first finger brought a grunt, the second one a growl and the third one a pained cry. Slowly, Ivan was realizing this may prove to be difficult. The man was already well-endowed, but coupled with the fact that America was unreasonably tight, would make it hard for him to fit himself in.

Oh well, he'd try.

His fingers created scissoring motions in the other, curling, then rubbing along the walls, trying to ease the other up a bit. He didn't bother looking for the man's prostate – this wasn't for America's enjoyment after all.

After ten minutes of stretching, he removed his fingers and gripped the base of his shaft, which had grown incredibly hard from his previous job. "Try not to bite too hard, may break teeth." He said happily, before releasing the other's wrists and shoving himself in firmly.

He managed to get halfway inside, before Alfred's hole tightened considerably, forcing the other to stop in his place. His large calloused hands rest on the other's hips, rubbing them gently, waiting for the reaction.

A long wail left Alfred.

Ah, there it was.

Back arching and tears streaming down his face, the younger nation gripped the sheets under him, body tensing up. "Stop! Russia! Please –fuck- it, ah, it hurts!" His back arched downwards, then up, fingers prying into the pillow under him. His glasses slid off, landing somewhere underneath him, though that was the least of the nation's worries right now. "T-Take it out-" He was barely able to speak through the sobs, head shaking and hair sticking to his forehead. "-I-It's tuh-too big!"

Russia chuckled lightly, shaking his head at the other's words. Why did America think that was going to help him at all? In fact, it was turning Russia on even more – it took all his will power not to thrust himself fully into the man under him after he said such seductive things.

"It will be over soon, America – we are nearly one." With that, he slowly pulled himself out, then pushed himself back in. Every thrust he forced himself in a little deeper, until the sound of hips slapping hips occupied the room, along with the whimpers and sobs of America.

"Ivan-" The word came out as a plea, a beg to stop and Ivan knew it, but with America under him, a cock sliding in and out of his ass and that sweet tear-stained face pressing to the pillow, it was just as arousing as a moan. His thrusts became violent and erratic, losing the original rhythm and instead plunging harshly inside at will. He closed his eyes and leaned down, tongue running gently over the nation's shoulder.

Alfred let out a choked groan, shuddering at the feeling of the hot tongue and panting. He no longer hurt, everything was just numb now. He could feel something inside of him, he knew it was there, but it didn't really register anymore. It was like it was no longer happening to him.

A little escape from reality.

But that feeling was gone, as soon as he heard a low growl from above him, then a warmth spread through him. His eyes widened and his fingers raked down the sheets as he was filled with the other's seed.

The panting Russia slowly pulled out of Alfred, staring at the abused hole, rubbed raw and slick with cum. It was almost erotic enough to pull him into round two – but, he wasn't going to push too far. The American would need a rest and he'd grant him that.

He stood up, pulling on his clothing and glancing to the man - the deal was complete, they were one. "You will stay here for rest of time." Without giving the other a second glance, he left the room, door closing and a series of clicking-locks echoing after.


	4. Lovesick Puppy

Alfred awoke with a groan, body aching and head heavy. It felt like he had to muster all his strength to keep his eyes open – and it seemed a near impossible task to try and move. Somehow, though, he managed to roll over and sit up, grimacing in pain as he did so.

Sluggishly he stood, knees shaking under him and hands groping a dresser next to him, using it to keep himself up and standing. He took heavy steps towards the door, before reaching towards the knob shakily and turning – a bit of hope picked up in his chest, but the door refused to budge when he attempted to push it.

Another groan left him, this time out of frustration, instead of pain.

"Ah, Alfred, you are finally awake."

The boy jumped, turning on his heel to face Ivan who sat leisurely in a chair next to the bed, a book open on his lap. America stared at him speechless, shocked out how he was able to overlook the giant sitting next to him.

"I hope sleep was good – you have very big day ahead of you." The Russian stood, closing the book and giving the younger nation a gentle smile. "You must want shower, da? Come, I will take you." With the smile in place, he reached out, tightly seizing the boy's arm and pulling him towards the door. From his pocket he withdrew a ring, holding several skeleton keys. Humming to himself, he began to thumb through them, finally stopping on the largest one. Inserting it into the hole, he twisted it with a clank and shoved on through.

Alfred remained silent, just continued to stare at the Russian. He wanted to say something, snap, be rude, fight, but he was too worn out, physically and mentally. All he wanted to do was crawl back into that warm bed and sleep until all his problems went away.

But that wasn't going to happen.  
Instead, he was going to get dragged through the hallway naked, the evidence of last night dripping down his thighs.

After what seemed like a mile-walk down the hallway, Ivan finally stopped at a large door.  
"Here is bathroom – you may use whenever you like."

Alfred pulled his arm out of the large and calloused hand, before starting into the bathroom. It was huge, extravagant; just what you'd expect a thriving super power to have. His lips drew into a frown and he began to close the door, but a steel-toed boot slipped into the frame, keeping the door open.

"Ah, I will be taking shower with you, comrade. I hope you do not mind."

Ivan forced the door open wider, before slipping his body in and calmly closing the door behind him. The temperature in the room immediately dropped, but, surprisingly, it wasn't from Ivan – but instead the glowering Alfred.

"Alfred, you act colder than General Frost." Smiling, he reached out and cupped the boy's cheek with his own, the softness of Alfred's face contrasting with the rough edges of Ivan's palm. "I hope to warm you up. "

Alfred turned his face away, the muscles in his jaw visibly clenching. "Don't-" he snapped, before calming down a bit, the tone in his voice changing from anger to bitterness, "-fucking touch me…"

"So cold." Ivan mumbled, head tilting to one side and a throaty chuckle leaving him. The large man shook his head, before turning his attention to the shower, turning on the water and testing it with his fingers. Once satisfied that it was the right temperature, he began to shed his clothing.

Alfred watched as he discarded everything on the floor lazily, with the exception of his scarf, which he folded neatly and set on the counter. "Alfred will come into shower now."

The almost good-news the words were brought to Alfred, were overshadowed by the menacing growl that came with them. It wasn't an offer, it was a threat – one poorly disguised behind a gentle smile.

A large hand was set on his shoulder, guiding him into the warm water. Ivan stepped in behind him, slowly sliding the curtains closed and massaging the man's hips, who stood glaring at the wall infront of him. "Ah, Alfred-" Alfred hated the other using his name. He hated it so much – he had no fucking right to call him by his human name. "-You are so much cuter when you are quiet."

Lips pressed to the vein that had risen against his neck from the silent rage that was building inside of him. "-But you are so much sexier screaming under me." He nipped, at the skin, causing a noise to leave Alfred. It was a mixture of surprise, anger and something else the Russian couldn't quite place his finger on.

Alfred's forehead pressed to the cool tile as he felt hands start down his sides, caressing him as they made their way along, gently cupping his rear, before slipping in, gently teasing at his hole. "I am so very sorry for last night-" His tone was anything but sorry. "-But it was only business, zaichik… You must understand." Two gentle fingers began to inch their way inside his hole, creating a painful stinging and forcing out a hiss through gritted teeth. "I will make up for actions, da? I will help clean."

The fingers began to twist inside of him, gently scraping at the walls, clearing his insides of any cum or blood that lingered. Behind him, the Russian hummed to himself as he worked, an occasional slip of a word leaving him as he hummed, "Ramamba Haru Mambaru". The way he sang it sounded almost Russian, but the words himself didn't seem familiar – nothing he'd heard before, not even during the time he spent in Russia following the Cold War.

His thoughts immediately left him as the other pushed against a certain spot inside of him that made his body clench, his eyes go wide and a noise of surprised pleasure leave him. The humming immediately stopped and instead he heard a low whisper in his ear; "What was that? What did I touch to make Alfred pleasure-moan?" There was another twist of his fingers, then a push back against the spot, causing the young man to arch his back and moan. All anger was lost on him, all need to get away, all hatred against the Russian – all that mattered was for the man to touch that spot again, the spot that made him feel stars.

Alfred's hands pressed to the walls, fingers bending and nails scraping against the smooth tile as the man behind him continuously fucked him with his fingers. His moans grew louder in strength and the erection he barely realized had formed started to twitch, a bead of pre quivering before rolling down the side of his length. He was drawing close to an orgasm and he knew it, pleasure building in the pit of his stomach and waves of need rolling over him.

So close! Sooo close-

Then it stopped, the fingers withdrew and the Russian stepped away. Alfred turned on his heel with wide eyes, legs feeling like rubber under him and erection throbbing painfully. All that he could manage out was a stupid, "what?"

"Mmm…" The Russian just let out a small hum under his breath and turned off the water, giving him a smile that was just too innocent. "Water is expensive, should not be leaving it running."

Alfred's felt his jaw unhinge at the statement – water is expensive? The nation in front of him was a super power – currently the wealthiest in the world, a bit of excess water would be nothing but dirt on his shoulder. He just wanted to watch Alfred beg for it – for him.

And goddamnit, he was going to do it.

"Fuck, R-Russia, dude, please-" He wasn't sure what to say, just knowing that, fuck, he wanted that orgasm. Now.

Ivan stepped out of the shower and onto a rug just outside the tub, with Alfred following after him. "C'mon, you can't just-"  
He was silenced by Ivan, who had grabbed a towel and begun to dry Alfred with it.

"-Alfred is dripping all over place, can't have that."  
The towel first worked on his shoulders, then down his chest, gently rubbing over his pert nipples, before traveling lower, running against his navel, massaging against his hips, then pressing slow circles against his inner thigh, all the while the Russian's hot breath ghosted against the American's throbbing member.

After what seemed hours to Alfred, Ivan stood, wrapping the towel around his waist and beckoning for Alfred to follow him as he made his way out the door.

And Alfred did just that, stalking after the man like a lovesick puppy.


	5. Repeatedly Press 'B'

They reached Alfred's room and Ivan motioned for the young nation to sit on the bed, Alfred following the orders obediently. Slowly, his erection was beginning to soften and common sense was returning to him. What the hell was he doing? He could have escaped while the other had his back turned – but no, he just trotted happily after the man, as if he were a prize dog on the leash.

Ivan's head turned, watching as the lust-drunk and hazy features slowly began to form into one more serious. Alfred was thinking. He couldn't have any of that. When Alfred thought - he talked. When he talked, he suddenly became a lot less sexy.

Taking long strides over, he reached the nation in no time, pinning him down to the bed with one hand and popping the top off of some lube with the other hand.

"Don't worry, Alfred…" He soothed, impressively managing to lube up his fingers with just one hand. "…I'll make you feel good again…" He dropped the lube onto the floor, not bothering to close it and immediately dove his fingers into the American's entrance, effectively shutting up the nation whose mouth had opened to protest. It didn't take more than a couple seconds of searching, before he found that little spot that made Alfred just purr.

Slowly he began to pump his fingers against that spot, causing all harsh and angry words to turn into nothing but mewls and moans.

Alfred's eyes slowly slid shut and his chest heaved, toes curling and his slowly-softening cock immediately becoming erect. He barely registered the strong arm wrapping around his waist and turning him over-all the while the fingers continued to violate him.

"Fuck…fuckfuckfuck…" His shoulders hunched up and he reached his hand down to grip his throbbing member, but his wrist was immediately caught and a heavily-accented "no" growled in his ear. He opened his eyes, finally noting the drastic change in position. He was no longer on his back, with the large Russian between his legs, but instead on his and knees, face dangerously close to Ivan's clothed crotch, while the man's arm arched over his back, fingers continuing to pump him.  
"If you come, it will be from my fingers fucking you." As if to prove his point, he thrust them in sharply, eliciting a hissed noise of pain and pleasure from Alfred.

"Fuck!"Alfred shuddered, head dropping a bit, cheek brushing momentarily against the crotch of his pants which radiated warmth. He felt close to coming, wonderful vibrations shooting through him every time his prostate was struck and causing his erection to twitch needingly.

Ivan's hand traveled down to his pants, palming his erection through the cloth, feeling a bit hot under the collar. He'd figure he'd be able to tame the American, but this quickly, this easily? Experimentally he stopped thrusting his fingers, watching as the dazed expression left Alfred and he blinked, slowly coming to his senses. He paused, glared up at Ivan, before snarling and starting to pull away, before he could, though, he shoved back into that particular spot, causing the boy to immediately lose his argument.

Oh, that fun.  
It was like one of those Pokemon games Kiku happened to be so fond of.  
America's argument was his evolution. And when Ivan didn't want him to argue/evolve, he'd just click 'B'…Which was conveniently placed inside his ass and called a "prostate".

He giggled lightly at the notion, having stopped rubbing his erection and thrusting into Alfred as he became engrossed in his thoughts. Slowly, he became aware that someone was yelling and immediately began to thrust in his fingers.

Which met nothing but air.

…Yebat'….

He looked up, eyes meeting with the narrowed blue ones of the man who had just been moaning under him. He looked so much hotter clutching the sheets and panting.

"-And where the fuckdo you think you get off just getting into a shower like that? I don't care what agreement we had, you fucking sick-bastard, I want to be fucking left alone – I'll just, I'll call my boss and have the whole contract void, we didn't even sign any papers – there's no way-"

He grabbed Alfred by the scruff of the neck, throwing him back to the bed angrily. His pleasant mood gone, now replaced with annoyance and sexual frustration. "If you keep talking, I will fuck you till you break…" As if to prove his point, he unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, before retrieving his painfully hard member from its confines. Alfred audibly swallowed and shut up, eyes wide, last night still fresh in his mind.

"Good." His voice dropped the throaty growl it had held, returning to that painfully-fake cutsey tone that he often used, taking to the job of moving Alfred to his hands and knees. "Now I was going to let you have your fun and ask for nothing in return… But I believe a bit of a punishment is in order, da?" Alfred mouthed the word 'punishment' after him, looking visibly tense, or at least more tense than before.

Wait, why the fuck was he listening to this fucking bastard? He was the fucking United States of America, he could do anything he wante- ahh, god…

Upon seeing Alfred's eyebrows knit up and that argumentative look cross his face, Ivan immediately set to work to stop that. One hand pressed to the small of his back, while he dove the fingers of his free hand back into Alfred's entrance, shoving up against the sweet-spot and eliciting a lewd moan from the man.

"I hate it when you speak…" He kept a steady rhythm with his fingers, gently hitting the spot each time, earning a small, breathy moan as he did so. Slowly, he made his way around the American, once again taking a spot in front of him. His head tilted as he watched Alfred's expression, slowly fisting his erection. He definitely was way sexier when he wasn't talking. He reached his free hand up, pulling Alfred's head down, in order to allow the head of his cock to trace the American's lips.

His protest of "hey" died into a low moan at another thrust of Ivan's fingers- this one particularly hard in order to ensure no more protest would be made. "Alfred…" Ivan started carefully, lowly, watching the shiver run down the other's body at his growled words. "…I want you to suck my cock…And if you bite down- I will cut yours off without hesitation."

Feeling he had sufficiently scared the other into not biting off his dick, he hooked his thumb against the nations lower teeth and pulled his mouth open. Before the American could think of a protest, he stuffed himself in.

And fuck, was he big.

Alfred's jaw ached painfully, attempting to accommodate the massive size, while the fingers inside of him stopped pumping, though didn't pull out.

"Move."

He glanced up at the Russian with a pointed glare and attempted to insult him, before slowly pulling his head up (Ivan mimicked the action, by slowly pulling out his fingers) before he slowly moved his head down- Ivan doing the same. Every time he bobbed his head, Ivan would pump his fingers, the further he went down, the deeper the fingers went inside, the harder he sucked, the harder he pushed. And, desperate to finally reach his end, he began to move. His eyes closed as he bobbed his head, moving quicker and faster, feeling those fingers brush just below his prostate.

Again, he attempted to reach down to grip his member, but a low snarl caused him to freeze in place. "Don't even think about it…"

He looked up to Ivan, who, though huffing quietly, stared down at him with such intensity that it was unnerving.

How the fuck was he going to reach his orgasm like this?

As if reading his mind, Ivan leaned down, a hand pressing to the back of his head, before gripping. "You want to come, huyesos? You need to go down further…"

Alfred attempted to move down further, but his throat rejected the cock, immediately tightening up. A noise of frustration left him and a low chuckle came from Ivan.

"Here, let me help."

With a tightened grip on Alfred's hair being his only warning, he shoved Alfred down against his cock, forcing through the tightened throat. Tears immediately sprung to his eyes and his body tensed around his fingers, gagging around the cock. In turn, Ivan shoved his fingers in farther, harshly pushing up against that wonderful bundle of nerves. Alfred's throat relaxed for a moment as a deep moan left him, sending vibrations up Ivan's cock.

And there went the last bit of Ivan's self-control.

He began to thrust his hips into the teen's mouth, watching Alfred manage to take nearly half of it- which was an impressive feat in itself. His fingers matched his thrusts, burying themselves in knuckle deep, eliciting muffled moans from his current object of desire.

The Russian was close, but the American was closer.

Alfred's whole body tensed, back arching downwards and fingers ripping the sheets under him. Harsh waves of pleasure washed over him, engulfing him in a sea of pleasure. He'd never felt like this after masturbating, or even when he'd spent some 'quality time' with the other nations.  
Then again, he didn't have three large fingers shoved into his ass at the time.

Ivan watched as Alfred soiled the sheets under him, before looking over his face.  
When had the man been able to make such a lewd expression?  
The Russian closed his eyes, feeling his orgasm approaching. In a jerky motion, he pulled Alfred up by his hair and unloaded his seed onto his face, making sure to get most of it in his open mouth.

Slowly a tan hand reached up, wiping the cum off his face, blue eyes flashing in disgust.

Ivan braced himself for the screams of anger.

But none came.

Instead, Alfred just wiped it off on the sheets and collapsed down, mentally and physically exhausted. He could wait to tell the Russian off another time. Right now, he just wanted to sleep.

He did manage a croaked "fuck you", but that was the extent of his lashing-out for now.  
His eyes closed and sleep took him over almost instantly.


	6. Your Food Sucks

A ray of sunlight escaped through the curtains and streamed against Alfred's eyelids, stirring the boy awake. He opened his eyes and rolled over with a groan, only to be met with a broad chest. Blue eyes slowly opened, then blinked, blurred vision sluggishly came into view, getting a good look at the Russian who occupied the bed with him.

Ivan slept peacefully, ashy hair falling over his eyes and lips parted as he snoozed.

Carefully, Alfred reached out, jabbing his finger against the man's chest. No response.  
He poked his cheek. No response.  
He pat his forehead. No response.

He pressed his hands to Ivan's shoulder, pushing the bear of a man onto his back, before clambering on.

His knees rest on the sides of the man's chest and he made sure not to set all his weight on his stomach, else he wake him too soon. Reaching out, he positioned Ivan's face so it faced upwards and adjusted his arms so they were pinned between his strong thighs and the other's own chest. He didn't just look like a bear, the dude slept like one too.

After deeming the set up as 'perfect' he pressed one hand to the man's chest and decided to finally wake him up.

With a punch to the face.

"Fuck you, you fucking fucker – I fucking hope you fucking choke on a fucking dick, you fucking cock-sucking fuckface!" His nails raked down his bare-chest and his knees tightened as Ivan squirmed under him, dazed from both just having woken up and the fact he was receiving a full-on attack to the face. Every 'fuck' was accented with a harsh punch and by the end of his rant, he'd lost his ability to form sentences, so instead he relied on just chanting, "fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck," over and over again, not holding back on the barrage of punches.

Ivan still tried to worm his way out of the grip, managing to succeed in grabbing the boy's right arm, momentarily stopping the onslaught. "S'too early for foreplay, Alfred." Ivan mumbled sleepily, seeming barely phased by the blood that freely ran from his nose and down his chin.

Alfred's jaw dropped.  
"Excuse me?"

He never liked using his left hand, having grown up being taught that the left hand was the devils hand.  
But he'd make an exception today.  
He balled his free hand into a fist and immediately began to punch Ivan again.

It took a bit more of struggling for the Russian to finally free his other arm and he immediately took the opportunity to flip them over, easily pinning the smaller nation under him. At one point this would have been a real struggle for Ivan and the possibility of him losing the fight was a bit closer to reality than he would have liked to admit. But now, in the crippling chains of an economic depression, the once-powerful nation was easy to dominate.

"I said – is too early for foreplay, Alfred. At least let me wake up with shower."

Alfred stared at him for several more seconds, before taking in a deep breath, rearing his head back, then slamming it against Ivan's.

The Russian pulled back a fraction of an inch looking barely phased.  
Alfred nearly let out a scream from pain.  
Oh God, it was like the guy had a head of cement or something – it would have been less painful if he'd rammed his head against a brick wall.

"Are you done yet?"

Alfred opened his eyes, staring at the smiling Russian with dissatisfaction. "No I am not done yet- You think just this wore me out? HA! I can go at this for hours!" Even so, he was out of breath and panting.

"Hmmm…" Ivan tilted his head to one side, looking thoughtful. "Then I will wait!"

That hadn't been the response he'd expected. His lips attempted to form a word, struggling to find just the right one to say, before finally settling on a lame, "what?"

"I will wait till you are done with tantrum – please continue what you were before." Ivan tilted his head to one side, eyes half lidded and that shallow smile on his face.

Alfred snarled, then did just that. He struggled and jerked and bucked under the Russian, who stared down at him with half-lidded, unimpressed eyes.

It wasn't quite the 'hours' that Alfred had originally said, the American finally stopping after ten minutes of intense thrashing, panting heavily under the weight of Ivan. The anger that had been on his face disappeared, now replaced with a mix of exhaustion and contempt. Finally he lay limp under the Russian, his whole body aching and wrists feeling bruised.

Ivan stared down at him for several more seconds, before letting out a dull, "are you done?"

"…Yes…"

The large hands finally released the tanned wrists and Ivan clambered off, sighing irritably.

Alfred continued to lay on the bed, taking a second to catch his breath. Finally his heart beat settled and he stared at Ivan's bare back, gaze flickering over the many scars that graffittied the pale back, some long, some thick, many criss-crossing over one another.

"I'm hungry."

Ivan glanced over his shoulder at Alfred, giving the boy a disapproving frown. "So what?"

Alfred huffed indignantly. "So feed me!" He sat up, glaring at the man on the bed. "I deserve at least some fuckin' breakfast after what you put me through!"

"Eh." Ivan's large hands raked through his ashy hair, before he stood up and grabbed first his scarf, then his overcoat. "Very well."

He pulled on his clothing and motioned for the American to follow, who shook his head stubbornly.  
"What is problem this time?" He questioned, irritation beginning to slip through his usual childish voice.

"What do you think my problem is? I'm fucking walkin' around in the nude- gimme clothes first!" Alfred pulled the blanket up higher against his chest, giving the Russian a demanding stare, who returned it with a groan.

"After all this, you are still worried about modesty? I will never understand your kind…" He slipped off the tan overcoat and tossed it to Alfred, who stared down at it in disgust.  
"…So tacky."

"You will live."

Alfred sighed and slid it on over his shoulders, making sure he was completely covered, before standing up. "I want eggs and bacon and toast and orange juice- no, wait, chocolate milk, and frosted flakes and-" He followed Ivan down the stairs, listing off every breakfast food that seemed good to him at the moment. "-and French toast and pancakes and waffles and-" they rounded into the kitchen where Ivan searched through the fridge, before pulling out a plate. "-and a slamwich and McMuffin and-what the hell is this?"

Alfred stared down at the plate being shoved forward, it looked like a hash brown, but had the unappetizing scent of squash.

"Is latke." Ivan replied dully, pushing the plate against the other's chest, wanting him to take it already. Alfred made a face, attempting to dodge away from the food. "What the hell is a lodkeh?" He questioned, shaking his head. "What's in it?...Like…Dogs or somethin'?"

Purple eyes rolled up and the plate was set down on the counter. "Is made of squash, eggs, flour and butter."

"I don't like vegetables."

An impatient sigh left Ivan, hand moving up to grip the bridge of his nose, attempting to keeping from getting too heated. "Just eat it… Tastes just like French fries."

"No way! Frenchfries are potatoes, dude!" Alfred crossed his arms and turned up his nose at the food, flat-out refusing it. "Squash is not a potato."

"There is no difference in taste!"

"I'm not eating it."

"Just take a bite."

"Fuck off."

"Alfred-"

"No!"

Ivan was done arguing by this time.  
If Alfred was going to act like a child, he was going to treat him like a child.

He took a firm hold on the Alfred's forearm, pulling the man in close and forcing open his mouth. The food was stuffed in and Ivan clamped a hand over the man's lower face, while his freehand went up to pinch his nose shut. After a few minutes of struggling, Alfred chewed the food and swallowed, while Ivan released.

There was a nice period of silence between the two, before Alfred folded his arms and looked away.  
"…It's pretty good."


	7. The Kiss of General Winter

His eyes settled on the loosely folded scarf that balanced precariously on the edge of the sink. He could feel his heart begin to pound in his chest and his fingers twitch at his sides. Could he do it? Could he really go through with it? His blue eyes settled on the Russian’s mutilated back, eyeing him nervously. Could he actually get away with it? What would the ramifications be if he got caught? …Would it really be worth it?

Well, there was only one way to find out.

His hand shot out, snatching the neatly folded handmade-scarf off of the counter. In the bat of an eye he had turned, darted out of the bathroom and took off running down the stairs. Ivan’s attention immediately snapped from the bathtub he was filling, to the open door. Without a moment’s hesitation he had darted off after the fleeing man, gaining on him quickly. 

Alfred wasn’t stopped until he reached the door, a large hand reaching out and taking a painful hold of the nation’s upper arm, forcing him to turn around--- But Alfred was prepared, he immediately ripped his limb from the other’s grasp and held up the scarf threateningly, grasping at the sides of a small tear already beginning to form on the edge. “I will rip it in fucking half, I swear. Just let me leave and I’ll give it back.” And, as if to prove his point, he gave a small tug, a few threads tearing free and a small, but audible rip being heard.

The lavender eyes that belonged to Ivan flashed dangerously, before an unsettlingly sweet smile spread along his lips. “Okay.”

“…w-what?” Alfred hadn’t expected him to go along with it so easily.

“You can go. I will very much like to have scarf back now.”

Alfred continued to stare at the Russian, his jaw unhinged and his eyes flickering back and forth, trying to figure out just what Ivan’s plan was. “You’re…You’re probably just gonna grab me right when I give it back! You think I’m stupid, huh? No way are you gonna get me that easy!”

“Nooo~” Ivan’s voice had regressed to that annoyingly childish tone that just made Alfred cringe. “Just give me back scarf… Then you are free to leave…”

Still, Alfred clutched the scarf to his chest and stared at Ivan, as if looking hard enough would allow him to peer into the man and see his true intentions. He was silent, just staring hard-eyed at the other, an inward battle going on in his head as he debated what his next move would be.

Slowly he began to walk backwards, awkwardly struggling to keep his balance and not fall. The scarf was held in front of him, hands still shakily gripping at the weak end, eyes focused on Ivan. “St-Stay there.” He demanded, quickly glancing behind him so he could see the door, before returning his attention almost immediately to the smiling Russian. He blindly reached behind him, groping around for the handle. Once long fingers found the cool brass, they awkwardly twisted it and pulled the door open.

It was a standoff now.  
Alfred stood in the doorway, cold wind licking at his exposed backside, and Ivan standing inside the house, just waiting for Alfred’s next move.  
Neither of them spoke.  
Neither of them moved.  
Neither of them so much as blinked.  
For several minutes they seemed frozen in time, a glare meeting a smile and the only noise being heard was the gentle whistle of the wind, blowing through the trees and creeping into the house, taking it over and making sure the home shared its cold.

Finally a movement was made; the scarf was balled up, thrown over Ivan’s head and Alfred was gone- running faster than Ivan had ever seen. The only trace of the young nation was the trail of footsteps left behind, which were quickly erased by the unceasing wind.

Ivan calmly picked up his scarf, fingers wrapping around the soft material and eyes surveying the rip. He loosely wrapped it around his neck and walked over to the frost-tinted window, looking out into the white tundra that was Ivan, lips drawn into a frown. 

 

Alfred had been running a good twenty minutes until he finally stopped. He was freezing- literally. He’d lost feeling in his legs and hands and it felt like an icy hand was inside of his chest, squeezing his heart. Nation or not, the cold was overwhelming, he couldn’t fight it off and soon he found himself sinking to h is knees, then collapsing fully into the blanket of snow that covered the ground.

It felt like someone were literally holding him down to the ground, cold fingers digging into his skin, pinning him down. He struggled to sit up, but his body couldn’t fight off the cold. He’d never felt conditions like this- even in his coldest days he’d never had to face something quite this…powerful, this strong. 

Alfred collected enough strength to roll onto his back, immediately met by a million cold needles pressing up against his skin, eliciting a loud hiss from the other. He could feel the cold travel up his body, along his stomach, against his chest, then around his throat. It tightened, constricting his air ways. Every labored breath hurt, freezing his body from the inside out. His throat was dry and his lips chapped, a hint of blue beginning to form around the edges.

For the first time in his life he felt like he was going to die.

The thought repeated again and against in his head.

I’m going to die.  
I’m going to die.

His vision was fading in and out and his fingers, which had previously been clutching the dead, frozen grass, relaxed, now laying splayed out on the ground, slowly dusting over with the snow. 

Alfred’s eyes felt frozen and every time he blinked, it was like shards of glass were ripping the sensitive skin under his lids. His vision was blurring, no matter how many times he blinked, it remained foggy.

He watched the snowflakes dance in the sky over him. They whipped around, back and forth, pulled to and fro by the wind.

Except for just above him.

The snowflakes were still, calmly hanging in the air, despite the angry wind. Slowly they began to move again, though deliberately, contrasting the erratic motions of the snowflakes around him. They drifted towards him, slowly, carefully, they formed a shape- a body- a person.

It was as if the snowflakes were encased in a glass tomb, they hung in the air, drifting to and fro whenever the ‘body’ moved, like a snowglobe. He watched as long fingers reached out, gently pressing to his bottom lip.   
The touch burned.  
The head came down next, there were no features on the face, only a swirling mess of white specs. But he could feel it, he could feel the thing looking into his eyes.  
Gently the frozen person pressed it’s lips to Alfred’s.

There was a sudden, sharp pain in Alfred’s chest- then a brilliant bright flash of light, then darkness.


End file.
